Page 85 of The Haunted Duke

Heat licked at him, singeing and burning the arms of his jacket along his back as heat and smoke choked him. Yet he continued, ignoring the way his eyes began to water and how the familiar taste of ash landed on his tongue. Things were different now. There were no chains holding him back, no sense of defiance to keep him silent. He bellowed Helena’s name, walking through the fire as he searched the smoke and flames to find her.

“Evander!”

Helena’s scream was full of choking fright as it filled the air, and he rushed forth as the beams above him groaned and threatened to fall upon him. He ran toward the scream, through the smoke until, to his surprise, he came to an opening in the back of the mill. Large, old double doors had been pushed out, pulling the flames and smoke toward the open air—and there, standing between them, was Helena, Lord Ingram, and a man he did not at first recognize.

Helena let out a cry, her wide green eyes finding his through the smoke, and she lurched toward him. But the man he was only now beginning to recognize as Lord Robinson, supposedly dead these four years, wrenched her back by her hair. Helena’s scream tore through the roar of the flames as her face, streaked with tears and ash, was yanked skyward.

Rage erupted within Evander, and he struck out. Ingram approached him, a pistol pointed at his chest, but he had no time to fire as Evander tackled him to the ground. He wrested the gun away and struck Ingram’s temple with the wooden grip. The man collapsed, his eyelids fluttering as he lay sprawled on the ground. Evander stood up with the gun in his hand, aiming at Helena’s father, but as he pulled back the hammer, he froze.

Robinson might have had one hand fisting Helena’s hair, but his other was holding a dagger to her throat.

“You would kill your own daughter?” Evander gritted out.

“I do not want to,” he replied, inching backward and away from the flames. “But I will. You have a choice. Walk into those flames and accept your fate. Or have my daughter’s death on your hands before I kill you.”

“Kill me because I will not keep your awful secret for you!” Helena snarled, her eyes narrowing with rage as she tried to look back at her father.

“Do not tempt me, girl,” her father growled, jerking her head back once again as the edge of the blade cut into her flesh.

“You will let her go!” Evander roared, feeling the flames grow closer at his back.

“This is all your doing!” Robinson snapped. “If you had minded your own business, none of this would have happened! I would not have had to fake my death and stay away from them. My family would not have mourned me. You never would have been taken! You have brought all of it upon yourself!”

Evander moved, taking advantage of the man’s distracted state as he ranted, and lunged. He gripped the blade pressed to Helena’s neck with his bare hand, ignoring the fire hissing at his back, and let out a snarl of pain as the edge cut clean through his glove and into his palm. Blood welled hot and immediate, but he did not let go. He wrenched the blade backward with everything he had.

Robinson bellowed and released Helena’s hair to grab at Evander’s wrist instead, and she staggered free, coughing against the smoke as the two men crashed together, grappling for control of the knife between them. Robinson was older, but desperation gave him a wild, clawing strength, and he drove his shoulder hard into Evander’s ribs, sending them both stumbling toward a beam already half-eaten by flame.

Evander twisted at the last second, taking the impact against his own back instead of letting Robinson force him into the fire, and the heat of it seared through his coat even through the brief contact. He answered with a vicious elbow to the older man’s jaw that sent him reeling, and in the same motion, tore the blade free and hurled it spinning into the flames.

Robinson did not stay down. He came at him again, bare-handed now, snarling something Evander could no longer make sense of over the roar of the fire and his own pulse pounding in his ears, and Evander caught his wrist mid-swing, twisted, and drove him to his knees with a crack of bone that made the man scream.

The pistol. Use the pistol. Get your vengeance.

The beast’s whispered commands were loud in Evander’s ears as he hauled Robinson upright by the collar and pressed the barrel beneath his jaw, his own breath coming in ragged, furious pulls.

I love you, Helena’s voice whispered next in his mind as he raised the pistol. I love you for your heart; I love you despite your scars. I love you.

The mental battle waged in Evander’s mind as he held her father in a chokehold, the pistol trembling ever so slightly against the man’s skin, and it was as he listened to the voices warring inside his head that he heard a very real one speak to him. He looked up and found Helena; her beautiful face was a mask of concern as she gently tugged at his arm, careful not to touch the bleeding gash across his palm.

“Do not do it, my love,” she urged. “Do not become him.”

Her springtime green eyes crinkled then, a smile just for him, even as they were surrounded by flames, and he leashed that beast roaring inside of him for vengeance.

He lowered the pistol and shoved Robinson toward the ground instead, wrenching his arms behind his back to bind him with what remained of his own cravat while the mill continued to smolder and pop behind them. By the time he had dragged both Robinson and a still-cowering Ingram well clear of the flames, the pounding of hooves announced Damien and Adrian’s arrival, a handful of constables close behind them.

Evander held Helena tightly in his arms as they stood away from the now smoldering mill and watched as the constables took hold of the two bound men.

“We will deny it,” her father spat out, now tied back-to-back with Ingram. “We will deny every single part of it. You have no proof of our trade!”

“Maybe not,” Evander said, rubbing soothing circles into the back of Helena’s head as he shifted his gaze down to the two men. “But you cannot deny the attempted murder on your daughter’s life. That alone will take you both to the gaol at the very least.”

“Helena,” her father said, his tone turning desperate as he shifted his gaze to her. “Helena, look at me, please. I never would have let you die. I would never hurt you. You know that, don’t you? I just needed you to lure him here.”

In his arms, Evander felt Helena tremble at her father’s pleas, and as she burrowed her face deeper into the side of his neck, he held her tighter. She would have her own nightmares now, thanks to these men, and though he would not stop her if she chose to speak to Robinson or Ingram, he was certainly not going to encourage her.

A moment later, a flurry of questions began. Evander did his best to answer most of the questions, but as much as he wanted to, he could not shield Helena from the ones only she could answer.

When they were finally through, and Robinson and Ingram were being led away to their judgment, Evander drew Helena back into his arms. He was nuzzling his ash-streaked cheek against her golden hair when he felt her hands come between them and push him away.